Requiem
by teaberryva
Summary: It's hard to say goodbye in any universe.


For Wikedfae, in light of our timelines discussion.

To paraphrase one of my heroes, "I own NO THING. I claim NO THING."

No beta, the blame is mine alone. Let the drivel begin.

"We are gathered here today to pay honor to the memory of a man who spent his life in performance of his duty. I will not spend time in recounting his many achievements and honors; those are well known." The admiral's amplified voice carried over the assembly, her image displayed on holoscreens around the amphitheater. "Though our loss is great, the loss to Vulcan is even greater. Spock knew the risks when he boarded the _Jellyfish_, yet he chose to risk his life in an effort to save others."

Nyota looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her red cadet uniform felt heavy, confining, though in reality it was nothing of the sort. A draft blew across her neck; she'd decided to wear her hair up today. She'd thought at the time he would have approved the more formal look, but now she wasn't so sure. She remembered when he had complimented her on her long ponytail-"a most becoming style," he'd said- and her shock that a Vulcan would pay such a compliment. There were many things she'd hadn't known about him that first day, and now there were so many things she'd never know. Missed opportunities. Her grandmother had talked to her about that: there were always opportunities, she'd said. The trick is know which ones to grab. At the time she'd humored Grandmother by agreeing, all the while thinking how obvious the answer was. Of course you took advantage of every offer to move ahead and reach your goal: take that advanced combat class, go to the seminar on first contacts, volunteer at the inter-species relocation center.

She was just now realizing that some opportunities weren't so obvious. The wilderness trek that last summer had been a good experience and was a nice addition to her growing resume, but now she wished she had spent her leave visiting Grandmother instead. So many things she didn't really know except from books, things she could have heard first hand. . . . And even after Grandmother died, she still hadn't taken advantage, hadn't sought out the people who could have told her things, given first person accounts. There would always be time to do that later, when she wasn't so busy.

Now time had run out.

Sometimes it wasn't the opportunities that needed to be evaluated, it was the goal.

A deep gong sound startled her, and she realized they were playing a musical piece as part of the tribute. She didn't recognize the work: probably something from a Vulcan composer. Delvok, perhaps. Her grandmother would have known. She'd loved all types of music. Nyota thought she'd even played some Vulcan instrument at one time- a lyre?

So many things she didn't know. She studied her hands, noticing there was a slight chip in the black nail polish that covered her short nails. Her grandmother had always worn her nails long. How on earth had she managed?

"I know it's not her, I'm just sayin' she looks like her!" Unfortunately for the speaker, the music had dropped into a lull as he spoke, making his voice sound all the louder. A dozen heads, Nyota's included, swiveled to stare at the source, a very elderly little man with a slight hunch. Embarrassed, he ducked his head while his thin, equally elderly friend pursed his lips and looked away as if pretending he hadn't heard a thing.

The music swelled again, but this time it sounded more like an Earth composer. One of the Russians, maybe. Or maybe not. She wished she'd checked the program before the electronic dampening field went on, making outside connections impossible except for emergency channels. She took a deep breath and concentrated on listening.

She waited until the crowds thinned a bit before she left her seat. The service had been well done; she thought Spock might have. . . well, not _enjoyed_, but found it acceptable. She remembered being surprised to see him at her grandmother's funeral; surely Vulcans didn't do funerals. It didn't seem logical, and she'd said as much to him. "What is necessary doesn't always seem logical," he'd replied. "but if it is indeed necessary, then it must be logical." It hadn't been until later that she'd really understood the ceremonies were meant not so much to honor the dead as to comfort the living, but she knew Spock's presence had been strangely affecting for her. She'd expected the others to come, and they had- the ones still living and able. Yet it had been Spock who had reached out to her and had continued to do so over the years. She hadn't really thought about it before, just taken it for granted as she had so many other things.

She stopped outside the auditorium to check her communicator. Four messages, but nothing urgent, though she was satisfied to see that she'd gotten the top mark in her geo-engineering class. There was a message from her mother who had watched the service from home and wanted Nyota to call her when convenient. She slipped the communicator back into her pocket and started to walk away when she heard someone call out.

"Er. . . Cadet? Um... Ms. Cadet-?"

She suppressed a sigh. It sounded like the little old man from before. She thought about ignoring him, pretend she didn't hear, but instead she turned.

The little man was holding up an earring. "Um. . . I think maybe you dropped this?"

She touched her earlobes automatically, frowning. "No, I still have my earrings."

He shuffled his feet slightly. "It must belong to someone else, then."

His tall friend was standing back a bit, watching. She would have said lurking, except there wasn't any cover from which to lurk.

"You can leave it at the auditorium office. It's at the back. They have a lost and found." She turned to leave, hoping to make it back to her dorm without further interruptions.

"I still say she looks like her," the old man said in what was probably meant to be a whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, Leonard," his friend replied, touching a handkerchief to his nose and sniffling a bit. "She only had one daughter who is an artist, and even if she had decided to honor her mother's legacy by joining Starfleet, this girl appears far too young to be the Commander's daughter."

Nyota hesitated. It would be so easy to ignore them and walk away. She really did **not** have time for this. "Granddaughter, actually," she heard herself say. "That is, if you mean Commander Nyota Uhura, formerly of the Enterprise."

"You're Upenda's daughter? Sheldon, she's Upenda's daughter.'

Fanboys. She'd heard her mother laugh about never being able to go anywhere with Grandmother without running into at least one space junkie anxious for an autograph from the famous Commander Uhura, peppering her with questions about the Enterprise crew and their missions. It had sounded so annoying and more than a little silly, and here they were, still poking about.

"I-_we_- just wanted to offer my-_our_- condolences," the shorter man said. He shuffled his feet, seemingly embarrassed. "After all, you really knew him. He was more than just a figure in the history books. He was- a real person."

They'd both been crying, she realized; and suddenly they didn't seem quite so ridiculous. The service had really meant something to them, unlike most of the others in attendance who'd just wanted to make an appearance. Spock had meant nothing to those people. He did mean something to these two. She too a deep breath. "Yes. He was a real person. I know, a lot of people thought he went off the deep end about reconciliation with the Romulans, but it was something he felt deeply about. Like Surak, trying to bring peace to Vulcan- not that he would ever have compared himself to Surak."

The old man nodded. "And it's also the end of an era. He was the last of that great crew. I grew up watching and listening to their exploits. They were my heroes. They made me want to be a better human being. It's just hard, even now, to believe they were mortal." He was silent for a moment. "It must have been hard for him, being the last one left."

"He didn't talk a lot about the past. He was always looking to the future." And the last conversations had been almost exclusively about **her** future, she realized. She hadn't known any of his plans. She hadn't inquired, and he hadn't volunteered.

"Did-did you know the rest the crew? All of them?" Leonard asked. "Well, not all four hundred and thirty, I mean, but the bridge crew?"

"Most of them. Some died when I was very small, so I can't really say I remember them." She thought a moment. "I remember Captain Sulu's laugh. I think he had the greatest laugh I ever heard. Um. . . there was an old man in a hover chair. I barely remember, but he kept telling me to eat all my vegetables and to avoid transporters. I do remember Admiral Kirk always flirted with my grandmother the few times I saw him." She smiled faintly. "I don't think my grandfather appreciated that. But Ambassador Spock came by most often. He was- very faithful."

"I know- you must think we're stupid, but ever since we were kids we followed the Enterprise. We have the trading holos, all the newsvids-"

"I have an actual uniform," Sheldon chimed in.

"They were just such heroes, bravely going where no human had gone before. It meant something to us. It wasn't like it is now. I mean, kids take it all for granted. Planet hopping. Meeting new civilizations. It's-routine. No big deal. It was different back then." He grimaced. "I sound like an old codger, don't I? Lecturing the young people. But exploring the galaxy. . it was a big deal to us. We knew we could never go out into space and do those things. All we could do was -" he shrugged, "worship from afar, I guess."

"Although you did have it written into your marriage contract that if Commander Uhura should ever ask you out on a date that you could go," Sheldon interjected.

Nyota covered her mouth with her hand. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

Leonard looked sheepish. "A guy can dream, can't he? And my wife, God rest her soul, signed it. After she finished laughing, that is." He was quiet for a moment. "She's been gone eight years now."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you miss her very much."

"You get old, people start dying. You lose little bits of your past, little bits of yourself. But as long as someone remembers, they're never really gone, you know? Like your grandmother. So many people still remember her. And you, I bet you remember all the stories she told you, right?"

"Did your grandmother ever tell you about Triskellion?" Sheldon asked. "Because I have a question-"

"She didn't talk much about her life in the service. She talked more about- I don't know, just life in general." Nyota stopped, thinking back. Her grandmother had asked more questions than given answers. What do you want out of life, child? What makes you happy? It wasn't strictly true that she hadn't talked about Starfleet. It would have been more true to say that Nyota hadn't been listening. The things her grandmother had said, talking about having to learn alien languages because translation programming had been in its infancy then, about transporter malfunctions and erratic replicators- things that seemed so old fashioned and quaint that they really didn't have any meaning to a child. "I remember she said something about the first time she saw a Romulan. . ."

Sheldon nodded sagely. "The Enterprise crew were the first to really see a Romulan. It was when a Romulan ship came to the Neutral Zone and Enterprise had to decide whether or not to risk a war. Nobody had ever seen a real Romulan during the Earth-Romulan War and nobody knew what they looked like- or nobody would **admit** that they knew." He leaned in conspiratorially. "The Vulcans knew, didn't they?"

I'm afraid I have no idea." They knew more about her grandmother's life than she did, she realized. How could she have been so oblivious?

"It's okay,' Leonard said. "I understand. Me, I don't know much about my grandfather, either."

Sheldon opened his mouth, but a glare from Leonard caused him to close it again. "Except that our grandfathers were- well, geeky space fanboys." Leonard looked down at the ground, sounding a bit sad. Nyota felt a twinge of embarrassment at her earlier dismissive assessment.

"Anyway, we're keeping this young lady- this young cadet- from being on her way. Thank you for being so patient with two old men." He smiled at her. "Your grandmother would be proud, you know."

"I hope so." She blinked back tears. "Ambassador Spock once told me that she would be proud, not because I joined Starfleet but because I found my place in the world."

"Um, Cadet Uhura? I shouldn't ask this but. . . about Ambassador Spock. . . since you were, like, almost family- do you know- did they find- _anything_?"

She shook her head. "There was some debris, but none they could identify as being from the _Jellyfish_. Most was thought to be from Romulan ships trying to evacuate before the disaster. There really wasn't much left, though. Everything pretty much disintegrated. They did a thorough search anyway." Nyota bit her lip. "If Spock had survived, they would have found him."

Leonard nodded, head bowed. "It's just - hard to let go, I guess. Even harder when there's nothing to bury. Even with the memorial service, it just feels. . . unfinished, you know?"

"Do you want to know what I think?" his friend interjected.

"No, Sheldon, we don't-"

"I think he went through a black hole and is now in an alternate universe, interacting with other versions of the Enterprise crew." He paused. "And they're probably all saving the world. Maybe not this world, but some world." He looked at Nyota intently. "You know, like the Mirror Universe, but in a good way. Or at least with less brutality and career advancement by assassination."

For a moment, Nyota didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead she just nodded and said, "You know, that's a really sweet thought, Sheldon. I hope you're right."

She waved goodbye and turned to walk toward her apartment, but stopped. "Thank you both for caring. And Leonard- I think my grandmother would have liked you."

His face turned pink with joy. "Really?"

"Really."

"She didn't suffer fools gladly, you know," Sheldon said. "I'm don't think she'd have liked you at all, Leonard. However, I shall be magnanimous and defer to the cadet's desire to make you feel important." He thought a moment. "On the other hand, Commander Uhura _might_ have enjoyed teasing you, the way she did Charlie."

Nyota started to ask who on earth was Charlie, but her chronometer chimed, reminding her of the study group meeting. She didn't really have time to -

Missed opportunities. These men knew so much, not just about her grandmother, but about the whole era. Impulsively, she pulled out her communicator. "Give me your ID address. I'll call you when I have an afternoon free. We'll go to lunch. I'd love to hear what it was like back then."

Looking dazed, Leonard recited the numbers. Nyota entered them into her communicator, then waved goodbye.

As she walked away, she could hear Leonard and Sheldon arguing over black holes and alternate universes. Just before she went inside, she stopped and looked up at the sky, imagining Spock on some grand new adventure in some other universe. She could almost see that familiar glint in his eye.

For some reason, her heart felt lighter than it had for weeks.

**A/N:** This came about because I was surprised to find several people who took the 2009 movie to mean that none of TOS ever happened. For me, that would be too sad, which may explain why Leonard and Sheldon came in to cheer me up. This is the fifth or sixth version of this story. One was as bad as another, but the others did have the virtue of being shorter. And Sheldon-less.

For me, I believe the original TOS universe not only happened but continues. I see it as a tree with one trunk that splits into two equal, parallel but not exactly symmetrical parts that grow up side by side. Branches go off in different directions- i.e., different events- but the roots of the two are the same. I see the single trunk ending when Nero came through: on the one side the original universe continues, unaffected, where our original heroes have all the adventures we've loved, while on the other the new version grows. May they both live long and prosper.

Reviews with constructive criticism appreciated.


End file.
